The Daughter of Anderson Crow Part 19

"But I should think she'd telegraph to you," said Blootch.

"Telegraph yer granny! Do you s'pose they'd 'a' stole her if they intended to let her telegraph to anybody? Not much. They're spiritin'

her away until her estate's settled. After a while it will all come out, an' you'll see if I ain't right. But she's gone. They've got her away from me an'--an' we got to stand it, that's all. I--I--cain't bear to think about it. It's broke my heart mighty ne--near. Don't mind me if--I--cry, boys. You would, too, if you was me."

As the committee departed soon after without any plan of action arising from the interview with the dejected marshal, it may be well to acquaint the reader with the history of the abduction, as told by Roscoe Crow and his bosom friend, Bud Long, thoroughly expurgated.

According to instructions, no one in the Crow family mentioned the strange disappearance of Elsie Banks to Rosalie. Nor was she told of the pursuit by the marshal and his posse. The girl, far from being afflicted with a fever, really now kept in her room by grief over the departure of her friend and companion. She was in tears all that night and the next day, suffering intensely in her loss. Rosalie did not know that the teacher was to leave Tinkletown surrept.i.tiously until after the spelling-bee. The sly, blus.h.i.+ng announcement came as a shock, but she was loyal to her friend, and not a word in exposure escaped from her lips. Of course, she knew nothing of the sensational developments that followed the uncalled-for flight of Elsie Banks.

Shortly after the supper dishes had been cleared away Rosalie came downstairs and announced that she was going over to read to old Mrs.

Luce, who was bedridden. Her guardian's absence was not explained to her, and she did not in the least suspect that he had been away all day on a fool's errand. Roscoe and Bud accompanied her to Mrs. Luce's front door, heavily bound by promises to hold their tongues regarding Miss Banks.

"We left her there at old Mis' Luce's," related Roscoe, "an' then went over to Robertson's Pond to skate. She tole us to stop in fer her about nine o'clock, didn't she, Bud? Er was it eight?" He saw the necessity for accuracy.

"Ten," corrected Bud deliberately.

"Well, pop, we stopped fer her, an'--an'--"

"Stop yer blubberin', Roscoe," commanded Anderson as harshly as he could.

"An' got her," concluded Roscoe. "She put on her shawl an' mittens an'

said she'd run us a race all the way home. We all got ready to start right in front of old Mis' Luce's gate. Bud he stopped an' said, 'Here comes Tony Brink.' We all looked around, an' sure enough, a heavy-set feller was comin' to'rds us. It looked like Tony, but when he got up to us I see it wasn't him. He ast us if we could tell him where Mr. Crow lived--"

"He must 'a' been a stranger," deduced Anderson mechanically.

"--an' Bud said you lived right on ahead where the street lamps was.

Jest then a big sleigh turned out of the lane back of Mis' Luce's an'

drove up to where we was standin'. Bud was standin' jest like this--me here an' Rosalie a little off to one side. S'posin' this chair was her an'--"

"Yes--yes, go on," from Anderson.

"The sleigh stopped, and there was two fellers in it. There was two seats, too."

"Front and back?"

"Yes, sir."

"I understand. It was a double-seated one," again deduced the marshal.

"An' nen, by gum, 'fore we could say Jack Robinson, one of the fellers jumped out an' grabbed Rosalie. The feller on the groun', he up an' hit me a clip in the ear. I fell down, an' so did Bud--"

"He hit me on top of the head," corrected Bud sourly.

"I heerd Rosalie start to scream, but the next minute they had a blanket over her head an' she was chucked into the back seat. It was all over in a second. I got up, but 'fore I could run a feller yelled, 'Ketch him!'

An' another feller did. 'Don't let 'em get away,' said the driver in low, hissin' tones--"

"Regular villains," vowed Anderson.

"Yes, sir. 'Don't let 'em git away er they'll rouse the town.' 'What'll we do with 'em?' asked the feller who held both of us. 'Kill 'em?' Gosh, I was skeered. Neither one of us could yell, 'cause he had us by the neck, an' he was powerful strong. 'Chuck 'em in here an' I'll tend to 'em,' said the driver. Next thing we knowed we was in the front of the sleigh, an' the whole outfit was off like a runaway. They said they'd kill us if we made a noise, an' we didn't. I wish I'd'a' had my rifle, doggone it! I'd'a' showed 'em."

"They drove like thunder out to'rds Boggs City fer about two mile," said Bud, who had been silent as long as human nature would permit. "'Nen they stopped an' throwed us out in the road. 'Go home, you devils, an'

don't you tell anybody about us er I'll come back here some day an' give you a kick in the slats.'

"Slats?" murmured Anderson.

"That's short fer ribs," explained Bud loftily.

"Well, why couldn't he have said short ribs an' been done with it?"

complained Anderson.

"Then they whipped up an' turned off west in the pike," resumed Bud. "We run all the way home an' tole Mr. Lamson, an' he--"

"Where was Rosalie all this time?" asked Anderson.

"Layin' in the back seat covered with a blanket, jest the same as if she was dead. I heerd 'em say somethin' about chloroformin' her. What does chloroform smell like, Mr. Crow?"

"Jest like any medicine. It has drugs in it. They use it to pull teeth.

Well, what then?"

"Well," interposed Roscoe, "Mr. Lamson gave the alarm, an' nearly ever'body in town got out o' bed. They telegraphed to Boggs City an' all around, but it didn't seem to do no good. Them horses went faster'n telegraphs."

"Did you ever see them fellers before?"

"No, sir; but I think I'd know 'em with their masks off."

"Was they masked?"

"Their faces were."

"Oh, my poor little Rosalie!" sobbed old Anderson hopelessly.

CHAPTER XVI

The Haunted House

Days pa.s.sed without word or sign from the missing girl. The marshal haunted the post-office and the railroad station, hoping with all his poor old heart that word would come from her; but the letter was not there, nor was there a telegram at the station when he strolled over to that place. The county officials at Boggs City came down and began a cursory investigation, but Anderson's emphatic though doleful opinions set them quite straight, and they gave up the quest. There was nothing to do but to sit back and wait.

In those three days Anderson Crow turned greyer and older, although he maintained a splendid show of resignation. He had made a perfunctory offer of reward for Rosalie, dead or alive, but he knew all the time that it would be fruitless. Mark Riley, the bill-poster, stuck up the glaring reward notices as far away as the telegraph poles in Clay County. The world was given to understand that $1000 reward would be paid for Rosalie's return or for information leading to the apprehension and capture of her abductors.

There was one very mysterious point in connection with the affair--something so strange that it bordered on the supernatural. No human being in Bramble County except the two boys had seen the double-seated sleigh. It had disappeared as if swallowed by the earth itself.

"Well, it don't do any good to cry over spilt milk," said Anderson bravely. "She's gone, an' I only hope she ain't bein' mistreated. I don't see why they should harm her. She's never done n.o.body a wrong.

Like as not she's been taken to a comfortable place in New York, an'

we'll hear from her as soon as she recovers from the shock. There ain't no use huntin' fer her, I know, but I jest can't help nosin' around a little. Mebby I can git some track of her. I'd give all I got in this world to know that she's safe an' sound, no matter if I never see her ag'in."

The hungry look in his eyes deepened, and no one bandied jests with him as was the custom in days gone by.